The Poetry of Nothings

The Poetry of Nothings By David J Walker I Only I know when I am Not sleeping, Lost in dreams of those who Keep talking keeping my awake alive With the revisitation's of visions of yesterdays and today's and what they say will be tomorrows The only way I know to make them fade into the gray is with the white noise writings of the poetry of nothings II The memories are imaginings They said Just the flashes translated In your head And implanted as thoughts you May or may not have had It’s confusing They said When you are losing your mind At least, That’s the way I remember The end of our conversation III My problem with Borrowing from the future is There are only so many hours In a day on display And I see no way the hours I’ve borrowed Will ever be repaid IV Surrendering sleep to The demands of ideas Is a bad idea But the only way I know To capture the elusive teasing’s Of the stingy genius we are chasing But never reaching And the vanity to cry that I will sleep when I die Rather I will die when I finally Surrender to sleep